


Chips and Coffee

by Frostwells



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Clara and Bill are Bi, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hand Jobs, Romance, Vaginial Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9067882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostwells/pseuds/Frostwells
Summary: Time’s almost up for Clara as a quasi-immortal. She knew that this day was inevitable. They’ll all face the raven someday. But before she dies, she wishes she can spend her last day finding closure she never knew she needed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I originally wrote this to be about 1k-3k. I genuinely don’t know what happened. I’ve worked on this since 9pm- 1:00pm so just over twelve hours. I’m extremely groggy, I didn’t sleep and I have a shit ton of caffeine and alcohol in my system.
> 
> But if you somehow enjoy this story, wow, I’m really honoured. 
> 
> This is fic is based off the series 10 trailer that aired after the xmas special. The special was okay for me in general until the last five minutes and then I became saltier than the dead sea. Yeah that bad.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN DOCTOR WHO. AT ALL. OTHERWISE I WOULDN’T DO CLARA DIRTY.  
> CLAIMER: I DO OWN MY SHIT TON OF GRAMMATICAL MISTAKES. IM SO SORRY THERE’S LIKE A TUB FULL OF MISTAKES. IT’S NOT BETA-ED AND BARELY PROOF READ.

The brunette nervously shifted in her seat as she adjusted her glasses. Low chatter can be heard echoing throughout the auditorium but it was nothing more than a dull hum in Clara’s ears. Her hazel eyes scanned around the room, unconsciously looking for that familiar flop of silver hair.

There was none.

With a sigh of relief (or disappointment), Clara slouched against the wooden seat.

 _‘I shouldn’t be here,’_ Clara told herself countless times as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. But when it came to him, there was no way she could stay away. Not just yet.

It started when Ashildr would suddenly tell her random bits of information about the Doctor and his whereabouts in space in time. _‘Did you know he’s back with his ex-wife? The archeologist or whatever she is.’_

_‘Oh, he’s not wearing the red coat anymore. The one that makes him look like a magician.’_

Or Clara’s personal favourite (secretly of course, there’s no way she’s ever going to tell Ashildr that she appreciated the info); _‘Clara! The Doctor is back at Coal Hill! Don’t know why though.’_

How Ashildr knew any of this, Clara doesn’t know. But she has an inkling she was tasked to monitor his movements for the Time Lords, at least, until Clara decides to accept her death.

“Just trust me,” Ashildr would answer, while picking her nails.

But despite her quiet gratitude for Ashildr’s stalking, for the quasi-immortal, any information about her Doctor was regarded as useless. There was no point in making herself known again, not when she gave him closure. Seeing him wear her favourite red velvet jacket and running around, saving people, Clara was certain he finally moved on.

Besides, she doesn’t know if he actually _remembered_ her or just finally put a face to a name.

“The Doctor may have had closure, but what about you?” the dark haired immortal questioned, a smirk playing on the girl’s dark lips.

Clara admits that she can’t face the bloody _bird_ just quite yet. Despite her bravado about not being afraid to die, she doesn’t have the heart (literally) to leave things just the way things are. Not with so many things left unsaid.

But after numerous impromptu adventures with Ashildr and their TARDIS, Clara admits that it’s finally her time to end things. Her being alive for this long could permanently damage the universe, with her death being a fixed point in time. But before she could set a route back to Gallifrey, Ashildr gently grasped her hands away from the console.

“Say goodbye to him before you go. You owe it to yourself, Clara Oswald.”

She shook her head sadly. “I said my goodbyes. _Four_ times. I don’t think I can say it again.”

Ashildr made a face, her brows furrowed. “The first time was rushed – that, I admit, was my fault. The second time, it was him saying goodbye, not you. After that, you left him in the middle of a desert. And I don’t think leaving a note on his chalkboard can be considered a goodbye.”

Clara only laughed. “You know, I don’t understand why you’re making a big deal out of this.”

“I don’t understand why you’re _not!”_ Ashildr huffed. “Clara, it’s my fault that you’re like…” She raised a hand and gestured it towards the brunnete’s petite body. “… _this_. But you have yet to scream, hit or lash out on me for taking your life away. It almost seems like…”

“Like what?”

A beat passed before she responded. “Like you actually wanted to die.”

Heavy silence filled the air, the raven haired woman knowing she struck a nerve. If Clara wasn’t so unbelievably stupid like the Doctor, she would still be alive, living her life. If she allowed her memories to be wiped, she would be walking among the living.

“You know what, I think you’re probably right, Ashildr,” Clara admitted, her voice soft under the whirring hum of the TARDIS. “Maybe it was because what happened to my mum, or Danny, or the fact that the Doctor was my life that I wanted to die.”

Sounds of sniffling can be heard as Clara wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“And that’s exactly what I got. I got no one to blame but myself, you hear me?”

With that, Clara turned around and placed her small hands against the metal levers, ready to pull it. But she didn’t. Even if she’s commanding her body to pull it, her body remained in place. She startled when Ashildr gently placed her hand against Clara’s shoulder, giving it a sympathetic squeeze.

“Die with no regrets.” Ashildr reached a hand inside her leather jacket and produced a folded manila folder. Only then did Clara’s body obeyed when she moved to accept it, albeit with shaking hands.

“He’s teaching now – the Doctor. Professor of English Lit at some University in London. Go see him one last time.”

Clara doesn’t remember if it was her or the TARDIS itself that started to move, the nostalgic sounds of the time machine groaning and wheezing reaching her ears.

-

She knew it was extremely risky, exposing herself in a public space, most especially in close proximity to the Doctor. Ashildr told her not to wear a disguise, since her sole purpose was to say goodbye. However, Clara was laden with sudden anxiety at seeing him again after for quite some time so she opted to change her appearance just a little.

As Clara scanned the mass of students in the auditorium, she admits that she is indeed dressed like every other female. 

She styled her hair into a casual bun, and wore lensed glasses, the frame similar to the Doctor’s sonic shades. She kept her outfit minimalistic, with the typical green coat and combat boots. The raven haired immortal was adamant that if Clara was to wear a ‘disguise’ then she must blend with crowd; _looking hipster,_ as she eloquently put it.

Clara shook her head, a tiny smile playing on her ruby lips. ‘ _She may be a few centuries older than me, but she still has the heart of a teenager.’_

The murmurs ceased when a deep, boisterous yet cheerful voice reverberated throughout the room. If Clara’s heart wasn’t defected, she was pretty sure it would’ve stopped at the mere sight of him.

He waddled up to the podium as he spread his arms out in a welcoming manner. “Hello, hello, hello everyone!” the Doctor greeted, his grin infectious. A few murmurs replied, and Clara could see some of them were even smiling back at him.

“I trust we’re all good this afternoon? If not, I suggest getting a cup of coffee and try not to be a grumpy Mr. Heathcliff.” That elicited a few quiet laughs, making the Doctor smile even broader.

Clara shook her head, laughing inwardly. She used to tease him about being a grumps like Heathcliff or Rochester. _Doc-chester,_ she loved calling him. He would always glare at her, saying her Bronte references were bland and overrated. But here he is, _teaching_ young minds about a subject she once was so passionate about.

His lecture was enthusiastic and very engaging, much to Clara’s surprise. Maybe it was because of his approachable personality that made the students want to participate. Hell, if it weren’t for the fact that she worried about risking her identity too soon, Clara would participate as well.

But a hint of sadness welled up inside her as she gazed at his cheerful smile. He looked so young and happy, reminding her of the former Doctor – his previous incarnation. The fez loving bowtie Doctor. Before he turned a bit darker and nonchalant. But looking down at the energetic man running about the podium, she could see no trace of that sadness, only the bright grin as the grey haired man moved around animatedly.    

Clara surmised that it was the fact he lacks the memories of her that he was able to act so uninhibitedly. She doesn’t blame him one bit. Who wouldn’t be scarred after meeting echoes of herself only to witness them dying for the Doctor every time? A part of her is glad that he’s happy, but she was only human too. Well, as human she can be. She wanted him to remember how much she loved being with him. How much joy he brought her, no matter which Doctor.

She wanted him to remember how much she loved him.

But she’s going to die soon. That wouldn’t be fair for either of them. She’s only here because of her selfishness of wanting closure (and Ashildr’s persistence). And there’s also the fact he most likely he doesn’t remember her.

 _‘Plus, he’s back with Professor Song now. His **wife**_ , _Clara,’_ she thought begrudgingly. _‘It’s obvious he has closure. I made a stupid mistake coming here.’_

“You! The one with the hair!” the Doctor’s voice echoed. Clara whipped her head up in surprise and slight fear, thinking he was calling to her. But much to her relief, it was another student in the lower part of the auditorium.

“Yes, sir?” a male voice called back, almost timidly. The Doctor sighed dramatically.

“Not you.” He gestured to his own messy, grey hair. “The human with the bushy head.”

“Hey!” A female voice cries out in protest. “It’s _curly_ not _bushy!_ ”

Her attitude piqued Clara’s interest. A student that talks back to the Doctor? Who’s her professor nonetheless?

“Same thing! Hair’s hair! It’s still gonna bald eventually and then you’ll have nothing!”

“Says you, old man!” she retorted. “Your hair is like…stale pasta and it’ll crumble into baldness!”

Laughter echoed throughout the room at the girl’s lame retort. But mostly in amusement at this girl’s audacity to banter with the Professor.

“Bill…” he said warningly, his Scottish brogue thick. The dark-skinned woman slightly cowered in her seat, but her shoulders still squared.

Clara raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘ _Bill? Already on first name terms?’_

“Yes, _Doctor What?_ ” she responds, cheekily. But again, the Doctor didn’t seem to acknowledge it. Or even care.

“Tell me, what year did Jane Austen publish the most famous classic literature, _Pride and Prejudice?_ Seventeen ninty-six, or seventeen ninty-seven?”

Clara’s hazel eyes widened as she was hit with a wave of nostalgia. Once upon a time, she and the Doctor had gotten into a little argument over the same question at her classroom window, embarrassing her in front of her students. It took most of her willpower not to shout out the correct answer.

“I dunno, ninty-six?”

“Wrong!” he yelled, before asking another student. They answered incorrectly as well.

Before she could stop herself, Clara blurted out her answer, “It’s both!”

Realizing her mistake, she quickly placed a hand over her mouth and cowered behind the person sitting in front of her, hoping that the Doctor won’t see her.

 _‘Shit, shit, shit! Stupid Clara!’_ she mentally scolded.

“…Who said that?” the Doctor asks, his voice suddenly serious. About a hundred pair of eyes turned towards her direction as she sank in her seat, her face red in embarrassment (or rather, if blood was circulating throughout her body, she believed her face would’ve turned red).

Hesitantly raising her hand, he calls on her. “You. Girl with the donut hair. Why do you think both?”

Clara clears her throat, purposely increasing the pitch of her voice. “It’s ‘cuz she wrote it in seventeen ninty-six, worked on it throughout the year, and like, finished it by ninty-seven. So yeah, it’s both not either or.”

Clara mentally flinched at her horrible American accent and how pathetic her voice sounded. And _gods,_ the way she said it too was cringe worthy. But she couldn’t use her natural voice and accent. She only hopes he believes it.

His face lit up. “Ah, we have an American amongst us! Tell me, what’s your name?”

_Crap._

“Dolly’s jus’ fine, Professor!” Clara giggles, inwardly disgusted by herself. And by the look on her classmate’s faces, they don’t believe her lie one bit either. It’s a blessing that the Doctor could be so thick sometimes.

The Doctor snaps his fingers and moves around the floor. “Well, Dolly’s right! Jane wrote the book between those years. She could’ve finished within a year, but that woman was quite the prankster, if I do say so myself! Always playing jokes and games.”

The students’ glance at each other, questioning their professor’s story, as if he actually knew Jane Austen personally. They just shrugged it off, blaming it on the Doctor’s eccentricity. After all, they didn’t even know his name.

Engrossed in the Doctor’s lecture, Clara didn’t know three hours has already passed until he bid farewell to everyone. Much to Clara’s dismay, she didn’t want to leave. She forgot how much she dearly missed being in his presence, even after that scare earlier when she exposed herself. She found herself chuckling to herself at his absurd comments and entertained by his passionate teachings.

Realizing that most of the students already left, leaving the room almost scarce, Clara quickly gathered her things, but not before throwing a quick glance down at the podium.

She felt her heart rise up to her throat as she caught him staring at her.

It wasn’t the typical, curious glance he usually gives someone he was unfamiliar with. No, it was the same gaze whenever he looked at her fondly after giving her his rare hugs or sharing himself a bit with her.

She found herself captivated by his bright, azure eyes, unable to look away. She felt the same butterfly like feelings swirling around her stomach, her small hands cold and clammy. Only when he began walking towards the staircase on her side was when Clara snapped out of her thoughts and was able to quickly flee.

-

Clara cursed inwardly, belittling herself for her lack of courage. All she had to do was tell him who she really was, say goodbye and then finally die. That’s all. Yet, she couldn’t even speak properly to him with that cringe-worthy, pathetic American accent.

With a loud groan, the petite brunette slammed her head against the cafeteria table, earning sympathetic glances from other students. They most likely assumed that she must’ve failed a test or getting a thesis approved.

She has less than half a day before she has to return to the TARDIS and tell Ashildr that she cowered out.

Shaking herself out her self-pitying and misery, Clara sat up and stretched, deeply inhaling. The enticing aroma of crispy, fried chips wafted in the air, stemming from the kitchen counters. If Clara had a normal body and a functioning heart, she would eat them to her heart’s content. But it’s all just a moot point since she can’t digest. It would be amazing to eat as much as she can with her newfound ability but Clara found it disgusting that food she consumed would just be…well, there in her stomach and not really doing anything.

Her mind wandered towards the Doctor. Was he eating well? He still looked awfully thin. His previous incarnation mostly ate everything while this Doctor was extremely selective. He only remembered to eat when she dragged him to eat with her.

Clara’s chocolate eyes lit up, an idea forming in her brilliant mind.

With haste, she took out her notebook and ripped out a paper, folding it into a makeshift envelope. Tearing out another piece, she grabbed her pen and scribbled down a few sentences, then placing it into the envelope after she was done.

She could find out where the Doctor’s office was, and she can slip the note underneath his door or mailbox. But she was slightly worried that he might not get it time.

_‘No, it has to be delivered to him directly.’_

Maybe she could buy him something to eat, so it won’t be as awkward in meeting him.

Looking at the counter, a familiar, curly hair contained in a hairnet stood out. It was the same girl from the English Lit class that spoke freely to her professor.

_‘She could help me. Maybe.’_

Gathering her belongings, she made her way to the counter and grabbed a plastic tray, paying for the food upfront. She slid down the aisle, uncaring for the food being placed on it; her only focus on Bill.

The woman didn’t seem to be much younger than her – maybe in her early-mid-twenties at most. Her skin was caramel kissed, her makeup perfectly done. She also had a broad smile, almost as big as the Doctor’s if not bigger. Clara couldn’t help but take notice that this woman was attractive. Really attractive.

 “Yo, Miss! You want chips?” the light-skinned woman asked impatiently, slightly miffed that this shorty was staring at her. Was it because she was black?

Clara snapped out of it and blushed, a little bit embarrassed that she was caught staring. “S-Sorry, yes, chips please.”

“Huh, so you aren’t American after all,” Bill stated skeptically, placing the chips onto her tray.

“No, sorry to disappoint,” Clara apologized, using her natural accent. “From Blackpool.”

“Why’d you lie then? Trying to be the popular girl, eh mate?”

Clara shook her head. “No. Not at all. Opposite of that, really.” 

Bill just shrugged. “Not really my business then.”

She looked at the next customer behind her, signalling that she’s done with their conversation. After all, she has chips to give out.

“Wait, please. I have something to ask of you,” Clara asked.

She the younger woman only looked annoyed. “Well, hurry on and spit it out. Don’t got all day.”

“My food here, give it to your Professor.” Reaching into her bag, Clara pulled out a white envelope she made just moments ago. “And this too.”

“I’m not being payed to play mailman for you. Go do it yourself.”

“Wait!” Clara shuffled a hand in her jacket pocket before pulling out a wad of cash. “Will this suffice?”

Bill eyed the cash, before laughing and shaking her head. “I’m just playing with ya. As tempting as it is, I won’t take it. I’ll do it because I like you.”

That threw Clara off. For sure, she thought Bill would’ve taken the money but it seems she isn’t so easily swayed by the likes of it. Clara likes her even better.

“Well, thank you,” Clara said genuinely. “Can you give it to the professor? The tall, insect-like one.”

“Insect?” Bill looked puzzled at her description before grinning, showing a row of pearly, white teeth. “Ohh, you mean, _Doctor What_?”

_Doctor…What?_

Clara shook her head, chuckling to herself before smiling fondly. “Is that what he’s calling himself these days?”

“Nah, that’s just what I call him. Calls himself a doctor of many things but won’t say what so I call him _Doctor What._ He makes a face at that but he doesn’t tell me to stop.”

“Seems he likes you,” Clara stated, a grin forming on her lips.

Bill scoffed as she took Clara’s tray. “ _Like_ is too strong of a word there, girl. He only _tolerates_ me.” She beckons Clara to hand over the note and places it in a plastic bag. “So, you want me to deliver these to the Professor?”

Clara nodded. “Please. The food is already paid for anyways.”

Bill raised her brow. “Again, why won’t you do it, miss? You’re payin’ for it, might as well give it to him in person.”

The brunette bit in the inside of her cheek. “I…can’t. I’m not allowed to see him.”

In a way, she’s not lying. She’s technically not allowed thanks to the Time Lords and their irrational fear of her and the Doctor becoming the Hybrid.

 _‘Can’t be the destroyer of Gallifrey if I’m already dead,’_ Clara thought bitterly.

Realization dawned on Bill’s face before grinning broadly, throwing Clara a roguish wink. “Ah, I see how it is! Bad breakup, eh? Don’t worry, miss. I’ll make sure these get to your boyfriend, that sly old man. If I can just have your name…” As she started packing the food in the Styrofoam container, Bill looked up only to find the short brunette gone.

Bill huffed. “Rude.”

-

The Time Lord rubbed his face with his calloused hands, his elbows propped up on the mahogany desk. Maybe it was the fact that he was over two thousand years old and his old eyes were playing tricks on him, but he could’ve sworn he saw Clara in his lecture today.

While the Doctor was indeed getting older, he wasn’t senile just yet, at least, not for another thousand years to come. There was no way that perky _American_ wasn’t Clara. He can read her face better than anyone. He knows her face _anywhere_ and that woman in his class was not an echo.

He admits it took him awhile for the neural block to wear off. When she appeared before him as a waitress, he finally put a face to a blur in his memories. But the full impact of the experience, emotions and memories he shared with his impossible girl did not come until he lived with River.

While memories of River were clear as if they were only lived yesterday, she was not _Clara Oswald._ Don’t get him wrong, he loved River. He still does, but not in the same extent as his former self did. The boyish one with no eyebrows. His twin hearts did not beat erratically for the archeologist and she knew of this. In the twenty four years they spent together, she would often run off with his TARDIS out of boredom, coming back a few weeks’ time. And he _knew_ she wasn’t faithful to him, despite him being her husband.

But then again, the title of husband and wife were always used loosely to her.

He began thinking of Clara, and what made him so attached to her to the point where he had to lose his memories. He didn’t realize how powerful their bond was.

Before he knew it, his azure orbs were misted with unshed tears; how she was his saviour after the Ponds’ death. How she brought excitement back into his dull life, a puzzle he never could solve. Her love for him when she willingly rip herself into pieces just to save him. Even after seeing his new face, her love for him never wavered. And she was the first person his face saw, imprinting her on his hearts.

The Doctor shuddered as he wiped his face. And by gods, the memory of the love, pain and suffering after spending about four and a half billion years in pure Hell just for _her_ hit him hard, it was almost he couldn’t breathe.

_The memory of you will hurt so much that I can’t breathe, and I’ll keep running and running until the pain ever catches up._

He could’ve laughed at how ironic at that line he once told Clara.

‘ _Here I am, crying like a newborn babe over a dead woman,’_ the Doctor thought bitterly to himself.

A knock on his door snapped him out of his thoughts as he quickly wiped his face, trying to make himself look at least presentable.

“Come in,” he called out, his voice gruff.

A mop of curly popped out as the door opened and Bill peered inside. “Professor?”

With a wave of his wand, he beckoned her inside. “Come in, Bill.”

Quietly, she entered and softly closed the door. The Doctor looked at the young woman with amusement, unused to this gentle and meek side of Bill, only used to being faced with her brash personality.

When she heard the soft click of the door being shut, she made her way to his table but she didn’t sit down. He gestured her to sit down on the leather seats, but she only shook her head.

“How can I help you, Bill?” the Doctor asks, a smile playing on his chapped lips.

The light-skinned woman shifted her eyes, looking everywhere but at him as she bit her lip. Something obviously bothered her and that had the Doctor wondering.

“Bill?” he called out once more.

“That American girl, who is she,” Bill suddenly asked, throwing the Doctor off. Of all things she could’ve possibly asked, it was _that?_

He leaned back in his office chair, running a hand through his silvery mane of a hair.  “Not sure. Never seen herself before and I certainly don’t have a _Dolly_ listed on the class roster. Why do you ask?”

“Is she your girlfriend, professor?” Bill blurted before looking down in embarrassment, muttering words to herself.

The Doctor blinked. “Bill, what’s going on?”

She shifted and twisted the plastic bag in her hands. “That girl, she’s not American.”

If he looked surprised, he didn’t show it. He only raised his eyebrow as he regarded the curly haired student in front of him, who was fidgeting nervously.

“Bill Potts…” he said her name warningly, his Scottish brogue becoming thicker.

That was all it took before she lost it.

“Damn it, I don’t know why I’m so nervous! Maybe it’s because you’re a professor, and I shouldn’t be prying like this and I definitely didn’t ask for this and – damn it, I should’ve just taken the money!” Bill rambled.

The Doctor stood up from his seat and walked over to the obvious distressed student. “Bill, tell me what money? Are you okay?”

“That American girl, isn’t American!”

“Figured as much, with an accent that horrible.”

“She said she’s from Blackpool!”

The professor froze. _‘Blackpool. No, it’s just a coincidence. No, it can’t be her…’_

The Doctor gently grasped Bill’s forearm and led her to the seats, which she finally sat down. He shuffled to his fridge and pulled out a chilled bottle of water. He handed the bottle to his student and she accepted it gratefully, taking a big swig.

“Now, from the beginning, Bill. What happened?”

“The American said she wasn’t from America. The short girl, a bit chubby. She said she was from Blackpool or something. Then she asked me to give something to you.” With that, Bill lifted her hands and presented him a white, plastic bag.

With a sniff, the Doctor looked down at the bag. “Chips?” 

She nodded. “And coffee. She said you were indecisive and bought you both.”

‘ _How about coffee? Or chips? Chips and coffee,’ he asked nervously, like a schoolboy asking out his crush. She only broadly smiled at him as she reached a hand towards him, beckoning him to follow her._

The old Time Lord swallowed thickly, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Bill…what’s her name?”

“I don’t know!” she cried, scratching her head in frustration. “She ran off before I got the chance to ask. But she has a note for you. I put in the bag.”

With speed that she was unaware her professor possessed, he yanked the bag out of her hands and dug through the contents of it until he pulled out a white envelope. ‘ _My Doctor’_ was neatly written on the paper.

_Dear Doctor,_

_I imagine this must be quite the surprise to hear from me. I’m writing this to you as if you remembered who I am. If you are still confused, then I’m extremely sorry, and please stop reading. But if not, then continue._

_No, I’m not dead. Yet. I’ve taken the TARDIS you’ve stolen back on Gallifrey, and claimed it. Although, like your own, the chameleon circuit is fried, thus it’s camouflaged as an American Diner. Not quite useful, especially travelling to the past. Yes, I’ve been going on adventures just like you. Not by myself though. I have a companion as well – Ashildr. You remember her still, right? Of course you do, old man. It was only me you’ve forgotten._

_But I’m afraid my time has come to an end. I’ve been alive for far too long and must return back to my timeline where I face the raven. But don’t be sad, Doctor. Everything comes to an end. Even me. But if I may be so selfish to request one more thing; can I see you one more time? I don’t want to die without saying goodbye. I think that’s why I prolonged my death for as long as I can. For the small chance of seeing you again. As you – my Doctor._

_I’ll be waiting for you in the courtyard until nightfall. You better be there, Doctor. Until then,_

_Forever Yours,_

_Clara x_

With his hands trembling as he read every word, he placed a hand against his mouth to stifle a choked sobbed. It was her. It was really Clara all along. She’s still alive, after all this time. His knees buckled with relief as he slouched against his desk, using it as support.

“Oh, Clara. My Clara,” the Doctor croaked as he was wracked with a turmoil of emotions; happiness, relief, sadness, anger, love.

Bill, who sat still on the chair in front of him, regarded the Doctor with worry and concern for his wellbeing. In the short amount of time she got to know him, he always seemed to be smiling, always full of life. Yet, one girl managed to turn her Doctor What into blubbering mess.

Just who is she exactly?

It was her turn to tentatively offer him a water bottle and he took it, flashing her a grateful smile.

“I’m sorry, Bill. It’s…been awhile since I broke down like that,” he apologized, looking almost sheepish.

“It’s fine, professor. If my ex came back into my life after…hard circumstances, I’d be pretty wrecked too,” she smiled.

The Doctor shook his head, smiling sadly, not bothering to correct her. Looking out his window, the sky was already a deep shade of blood orange, a hint of indigo leaking into the clouds. It was almost dusk.

He looked down at his student. “Forgive me, Bill, but I have so much work to do before I have to go.”

She quickly stood up. “Of course, sir.” Before she walked out the door, she turned around and said, “Good luck, Doctor What.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Bill.”

With the gentle shut of the door, the Doctor was left alone in his office, surrounded by his books and silence.

‘ _Soon, my Clara. I’ll see you soon.’_

_-_

Clara wandered around campus, simply enjoying the scenery, admiring the nature and architecture. She had time to kill before she made her way to the courtyard to finally meet the Doctor.

In contrast to the nervousness and anxiety she experienced earlier, she finally felt a sense of peace within her. Maybe it was because of that note she’d written earlier. She expressed everything she could before meeting the Doctor in person. And she trusted Bill to deliver it safely to her professor.

Clara stared up at the bright colours of the sky as she raised a hand to the sky, her short, hazel hair gently swaying while reveling in the coolness of the autumn breeze. She deeply inhaled the musky scent of the earth and grass. If she’s going to die tomorrow, then she wants these sensations she’s experiencing right now to be engraved in her memory. When Clara sees that bird flying towards her at her final moments, all she wants to remember is what it felt like in this moment and to see the Doctor’s smiling face. Only then can she truly be brave.

With the dark colour of the indigo and crimson overlapping the blue in the sky, Clara knew it was going to be dark soon. Bringing down her hand, she got off the grass and followed the cobblestone path to the front of the building. Feeling like a child, Clara jumped on every crack, giggling. She must’ve looked insane to prying eyes, but she doesn’t care. Not when she feeling like she’s on top of the world.

Finally stopping at what looked like the courtyard, Clara looked around for any sign of the Doctor. She couldn’t find him but that’s alright with her. She had told him she’d wait for him until it was dark and it wasn’t nightfall yet. She can kill time by wandering around the courtyard.

Enjoying the sound of her boots clacking on the pavement, Clara continued to follow the stoned path until she reached the other end of the building.

And that’s when Clara cried.

She never thought she would miss a police box so damn much. But in front of her eyes at the end of the grassy terrain, was the Doctor’s TARDIS. Of course, she didn’t know what to expect, considering it never changes its appearance. But seeing that telephone box covered in the familiar blue paint, and that lightbulb on the roof, Clara’s chest constricted painfully.

With wide eyes and shaky hands, Clara reached out and placed them onto the cool wooden exterior, reveling the roughness of it underneath her fingertips.

“Hello, you old cow,” Clara greeted with a wobbly smile, hot tears streaming down her chubby cheeks. “Miss me much?”

She didn’t expect it to reply, but Clara suddenly felt as if she were enveloped in a warm blanket. She stroked the TARDIS a few more times affectionately before taking a step back.

With a harsh shudder, Clara slowly raised her right arm, and snapped her fingers.

The TARDIS’s doors flung open.

With a loud cry, Clara tossed herself inside, and jumped down the stairs, not caring for her wellbeing. She can’t believe the TARDIS still acknowledges her, even though she had been dead and gone for a while. She stroked the cortex lovingly, just like how she watched the Doctor do countless times. She ran around it, as if it she were seeing it for the very first time.

“Gods, I never thought I would miss you, bloody cow, but here I am.”

The groans of the time machine echoed loudly, making Clara smile. “I missed you too.”

She glanced at the walls of the TARDIS and notice he changed the interior again. Gone were round things he loved so much and the mood lightings she adored. Glancing up at the balcony, she could see the familiar, chalkboard. Her chalkboard.

The Doctor had gotten it for as a gift, saying the big chalk board was his, and the small one was hers. Perfect for her size. She was offended at first, but she had come to love it. Just like everything the Doctor gave her.

Climbing up the metal staircase, Clara faced her board and gave it a watery smile. Her last message to the Doctor in her handwriting – it was still there, though a bit faded. He hadn’t erased it.

**RUN YOU CLEVER BOY,**

**AND BE A DOCTOR.**

“It’s good to be home,” Clara murmured to no one in particular. Even if she can’t come back anymore, it was good to come back home for one last time.

The impossible girl slowly walked down the staircase, wanting to explore the corridors. But Clara knows if she does, she’ll never want to leave. Instead, she settled for sitting underneath the cortex, gently stroking the machine, the dull hum of the TARDIS calming her down from her emotional high.

-

The Doctor glanced out his windows only to find the once bright sky enveloped with the dark hue of dusk. He sighed as he fixed his papers before putting on his coat and grabbing his food. In a few minutes, he’ll finally be reunited with his impossible girl.

Making sure everything is organized the way it should be, he flicked the light switch off and locked his door, hurried footsteps echoing loudly against the granite floor.

He sprinted outside to the courtyard, only to find it lacking a Clara Oswald. He frowned and took out her note, rereading the contents of it. She did say she’d be waiting until nightfall, and he’s just on time for once. He wandered the grounds, looking for a petite woman, even tempted to call out her name. But he didn’t want to risk campus security running to his aid.

Instead, he walked to the end of the courtyard only to see something off.

The TARDIS’s lights were on.

The only reason why the lights would be on is because someone would be inside. But he made sure he locked it with his key every time he had to teach.

Unless…

Breaking out into a full run, he reached for his police box and roughly pushed the handle open. His cobalt eyes frantically scanned the room until setting its gaze upon a very small Clara sitting underneath the console, familiar chocolate eyes widened in shock.

“Clara…” the professor whispered brokenly.

-

“Clara…” the Doctor whispered, his deep voice cracking.

The quasi-immortal lifted her head at violent sound of the doors being pushed open only to find her Doctor, _her Doctor_ , staring at her in disbelief, as if she wasn’t real.

Clara can only imagine she bore the same facial expression with her mouth opened and her eyes impossibly wide.

“D-Doctor?” she asked softly, kneeling towards him, unsure if her mind (or the TARDIS) was playing a cruel trick on her and he indeed wasn’t there.

“Clara!” he sobbed, dropping the plastic bag and quickly made his way towards his former companion.

She yelled out his name as she leaped off the cold ground and straight into his awaiting embrace without abandon. The Doctor held her tightly against him, not caring if he was holding her. He felt that if he loosen his grip, she would disappear from his arms.

Clara clung onto her Doctor just as tightly with as much enthusiasm. Gods, she had missed him so _fucking_ much.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as she buried his face in the crook in his neck, inhaling that familiar scent that’s uniquely to this Doctor; warm, spicy, chalky and a smell that’s utterly him. She loves it. It barely registered in Clara’s head that her feet no longer made contact with the floor, but the Doctor actually holding her up.

Neither seemed to mind.

“Clara, my Clara,” he quietly murmured repeatedly against her head, nuzzling her hair while inhaling her scent. It was a bit different now that she’s no longer human, but the underlying hint of smell that belonged to only her was still distinct.

She felt like home.

She felt a new wave of hot tears leaking from her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re really here, Doctor. Really here.”

The Doctor tightened his grip. “Stop that. Stop it with your eyes, Clara. It’s like you’re happy and sad at the same time. It’s like your malfunctioning.”

She laughed despite her tears, happy to hear the nostalgic words all over again. “Sorry, Doctor.”

“It’s okay,” he hushed, pressing a kiss to the side of her temple. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m sorry I took so long though.”

He felt her shake her head against his shoulder. “It’s my fault. I should’ve seen you sooner but I was too much of a coward myself.”

“You? A coward? Nah, Clara Oswald is never a coward, that brave, impossible girl of mine,” he claimed reassuringly.

“I missed you, Doctor. _So much, it hurt,”_ Clara admitted.

“And I missed you, Clara. My Clara.”

After clinging tightly to her for quite some time, the Doctor reluctantly set Clara down back. But as expected, she withdrew her arms from his neck and threw them around his middle, settling her head underneath his unshaven chin.

He stroked her shoulders reassuringly, for the both of them. To confirm the existence for the both of them that they are not a figment of their imagination.

He pulled himself away only to look down at the petite brunette. She stared up at him, her eyes wet from tears but glistening with happiness and her lips quirked up into a smile.

The Doctor bent down and pressed a chaste kiss against Clara’s forehead, her eyelids and her cheeks before leaning down, nuzzling her face affectionately.

She moved an arm from his waist and lifted it to press a hand to his cheek, thumbing it softly.

“Your hand is cold,” he stated softly, but doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“That happens when your heart isn’t beating,” she joked lightly, but the Doctor adverted his eyes guiltily.

“If it were physiologically possible, I’d give you one of my hearts. I’d become human for you,” he confessed honestly, staring at her forlornly. “Anything to make you alive again.”

His former companion shook her head. “I’m good as dead, Doctor. No pulse, remember?”

“It’s my fault you’re like this, Clara.”

“Doctor, that’s not true. I got to see once last time. And you remembered who I am. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Clara was suddenly back in his arms, and she could feel him shaking. “What will I do without you, Clara?”

He gazed down at her, a sad smile playing on his lips. She has always been his constant and now he has to learn to be without her. He spent four and a bloody half _billion_ years in hell for her and the universe wants to take her away from him. Can’t he be selfish just once and have her?

She pressed her lips against his jumper where his bottom heart beats. “Go about as you always did,” She moved her head and kissed his upper heart. “Be a doctor.”

They held each other in a tight embrace, both mourning for the inevitable loss. After a moment or two, the Doctor released her from his grasps, but ran a hand down her shoulder and took her hand in his much larger ones.

“Do you want chips? Coffee? Or chips and coffee?” the Doctor asked, finally flashing her a cheerful smile she loved so much. “I promise I won’t leave you in Glasgow again. And I have everything already with me so I don’t need to do any sort of fetching.”

She found herself grinning widely, but she still had to ask, “Why chips and coffee?”

He gripped her hand tightly. “When I first asked you out, that’s when you accepted me. And now, I’m accepting you. At least, I’m trying to cope with the fact that this is the last time I’ll see you. So, why not come full circle, eh, Clara Oswald?”

His confession rendered her speechless at his thoughtfulness of it all. Not once did she thought of it that way, but it just comes to show how important everything is to the Doctor. Down to the finest detail. And she can’t love him any less.

“I can even bring you to Glasgow if you want, Clara! I know this spectacular view over – Clara?” The Doctor peered down at the brunette, whose shoulder wracked with quiet sobs as fresh tears leaked from her eyes.

“S-Sorry,” Clara hiccupped. “It’s sounds amazing, really. It’s just, may I request something of you?”

“Anything. You name it,” he promised, pulling her closer to him, desiring to be close to her. He doesn’t care if she asks for the impossible. For his impossible girl, he’ll do it. Anything to keep her by his side. He’ll even travel to the ends of the universe if that’ll make her happy. Anywhere in space in time, he’ll take her.

But he didn’t expect the next words she said.  

“I don’t want to go anywhere.”

The Doctor spluttered. “But Clara, I could easily take you to all the places you want! Fill out that ‘One Hundred and One Places to See’ book of yours! I can take you back right to this spot at this same moment!”

“That’s not the point, Doctor. My last adventure before I die, I just want to be with you. Right here, right now. Don’t need to waste any more time going to places that I have no desire to see or risk fighting aliens and monsters. With every second I have left, I want it to spent with you.”

The Time Lord clenched his free hand into a fist tightly, feeling agitated. He had forgotten how much of a control freak she is. “But Clara…where’s the rush? Why are you so eager to die? We’re finally back together, the way it should be!”

He towered over her as his cobalt eyes blazed brightly under the electric lights of the TARDIS, his jaw clenched. She surprised him by taking their joined hands and brought the back of his and to her lips, smiling sadly up at him.

“Silly, old man. Can’t you see? I’ve been alive for far too long. The longer I walk on this Earth, the more permanent damage I cause to the universe. It relies on me dying since I’m a fixed point in time.” She watches him cringe as points that fact out before continuing. “It’s only the matter of time before the Time Lords come after me and drag me back to my timeline. You should know that better than anyone else, Doctor.”

As much he doesn’t want to admit it, Clara’s right. If she’s been having adventures long before he regained his memories of her, it won’t be long until the council will come and collect her. And he knows being with her like this is dangerous as well. If the Time Lords find out, they will surely send her off to her death simply because the two of them are the infamous Hybrid they fear.

“Do you understand, Doctor?” Clara asks, her voice soft and warm.

“Yes,” he nods, albeit begrudgingly.

“Then do you want to hear the rest of my request?” He nodded again. “I don’t want to travel anywhere. Here is fine as long I’m with you. We can have coffee and chips like a real date.” She sees him brighten up at the word _date_ and that made her smile widely. “And I want to dance with you.”

The Doctor only blinked at her. “I-I’m sorry, what?”

“I want to dance with you. I always wanted to slow dance with the person I love and that’s you, Doctor. I’ve regretted not dancing with you back on the Orient Express simply because I was too wounded and prideful. Plus, _Don’t Stop Me Now_ has become a personal favourite song of mine,” Clara admitted, albeit shyly, but her eyes never breaking contact with his own.

“That song, you were playing it at the diner,” he pointed out.

Clara nodded. “Yup. I was hoping it would help you remember things about us.”

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor apologized again, still guilty about unintentionally hurting her feelings.

She looked at him hopefully. “You’re forgiven if you accept my requests?”

This time, it was the Doctor’s turn who raised their join hands and pressed his warm lips against her cold hand with a slight bow. “It’ll be my greatest pleasure, Miss Oswald.”

As promised, they enjoyed a warm batch of chips and coffee (thanks to the sonic screwdriver) from Bill, as they sat on a thick quilt beside the campus lake. She leaned against his warm body as he wrapped around her shoulder, keeping her close. Soft, jazzy piano trills could be heard from the Doctor’s phone as he hummed some of the tunes.

When the sounds of the soft piano keys fading out in the background, the Doctor put on what he’s now calling it, _their song._

**_Tonight, we’re gonna have myself a real good time. I feel alive~_ **

At the familiar lyrics and the light rasp of Foxe’s voice, Clara sat up straight, suddenly alert. The Doctor got up and offered the brunette his hand.

“May I have this dance, Miss Oswald?” he asked formally, a smiling twitching on his lips before breaking out into a grin.

She laughed, her eyes crinkling. She placed her hand into his own as he gently tugged her off the ground.

“Yes, Doctor, you may.”

The Doctor held her hand up while keeping a firm hand securely on her waist as they softly swayed side to side. Clara rested her head against his chest, the look of pure happiness etched on her features. In a hushed voice, he sung the lyrics to his impossible girl, feeling content as well.

The song ended but he didn’t want to stop dancing and neither did she. She glanced up at him only to find him staring down at her lovingly before slowly bending down his head. He was giving her an opportunity to stop him, but she didn’t want to. Meeting half way, their lips finally met in a gentle kiss.

It was soft and gentle, just like Clara expected him to be. But he was also greedy.

One kiss turned into two. Then two turned into four, and it doubled from there until neither one could keep count. Soft became pressing, gentle became harder, more demanding of each other.

She lightly bit his bottom lip before soothing the sting with her tongue while wordlessly asking for entrance. The Doctor complied as she slipped her tongue inside, only to meet his own; the control freak and the man that should never be controlled, both fighting for dominance.

Despite her being the smaller one of the two, Clara maneuvered the bodies until they hovered above the quilt. She gently pushed on his chest, commanding the Doctor to lie down. Amused at where this was going, he obeyed and sat down. Clara looked down, tossing him a wicked smirk.

She toed off her boots before slowly unzipping her green jacket, revealing a simple v-tank top. She slid it off her shoulders and watched it fall to the grass. The Doctor gulped. If he had any idea where Clara was going with this it would be a damn strip tease.

“I always wanted you like this, Doctor,” Clara admitted, her voice laced with desire. “Looking at me with that fire in your eyes, wanting me. And don’t worry, it’s this face that got me worked up. Not the boyish you.”

The Doctor licked lips as she raised her shirt above her abdomen just before making it fall back own, causing him narrow his eyes. He doesn’t liked to be teased. This time, the petite brunette raised it to her neck, giving him the best view of her perky breasts encased in a black bra. Like the egomaniac Clara is, she pulled down her shirt, giving him a coy smile at his frustration.

“Clara, don’t tease me,” the professor warned, his voice low. “You don’t want to see what happens when I’m pushed to my limits.”

“Oh, but I do, Doctor,” Clara said in a sultry manner.

Finally giving him a sense of reward, she pulled her shirt over her head, finally falling on the grass beside her jacket. The brunette was left in her bra and leggings.

Before she could hook her thumbs around the waistband of her pants, the Doctor grabbed her wrists. “Clara, again, don’t tease me. Do I have to beg?”

She smirked down at the man. “Yes. Beg for me, Doctor.”

He got off his arse as he got on his knees before his impossible girl. “Clara, please, no more teasing. Please.”

She ran her hand through his messy hair, earning her a light growl coming from the Time Lord’s lips before gently yanking it. He looked up at her and she kissed him passionately, immediately thrusting her tongue into his mouth, feeling the warm, pliable muscle move against her own.

She pulled back to see his eyes hooded with lust, his lips kissed swollen and his hair absolutely disheveled.

“Good boy.”

Showing mercy, she quickly took off her leggings and panties in one tug, and unclasped her bra. She was finally naked and the Doctor found nothing more beautiful and captivating than Clara.

“Touch me,” she commanded.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

The Doctor pulled her down onto the quilt, instantly covering her mouth and body with his. Clara tugged on his clothes, annoyed that he’s still fully dressed while she’s not.

“Doctor, take off your clothes, mhn,” Clara panted out between each kiss. He tore his lips away from hers, quickly shedding off everything.

Once divested of his clothes, the Doctor latched onto the tender skin between her collar bone and her throat and sucked (though, he regrets he can’t mark her thanks to the lack of pulse). “Satisfied?”

“Yes, very,” Clara murmured appreciatively, raking her nails down his back. He arched his body upwards in response, causing him to increase pressure on his suction. Clara moaned as she felt the pain and was very grateful that she can’t get a hickey.

The young woman could tell that the Doctor was trying to warm her up, the way he was kneading and sucking her breasts, or how his long fingers soaked in the wetness of her cunt. But she was already withering under his touch with desire.

Taking the initiative, Clara moved a hand towards his decent sized cock and gave him a few, long, firm strokes, causing the Doctor to cry out in surprise and pleasure.

“C-Clara,” he choked, caught up in the intense feeling of her cold hands pumping his hot dick.

She tossed a leg around his waist as she brought his member to her soaked entrance.

“Already?”

“Yes, Doctor!” Her usual sweet voice was rough with arousal and the Doctor growled in response, pushing himself into her fully, sheathing himself with her warmth. His hand gripped her thigh as the other was placed beside her head to prop himself up. Not wasting any time, he immediately started slow, gauging Clara’s reaction. By her mewls and lewd comments, she was loving it. He increased the speed of his thrusts, causing Clara to cry out.

“Rassilion, you’re so wet, Clara. Is this all for me?” The petite woman could only whimper in response, biting his pale neck, now flushed with red as he worried her clit with his thumb. He tasted like salt, sweat and something spicy that she can’t put a name to.

Clara pressed kisses along his neck until she met his neck and begged, “Harder, Doctor. I need you.”

The Time Lord snarled as fingered Clara’s swollen clit, stringing out a few words in Gallifreyan in what Clara presumes are profanities. She guesses the TARDIS didn’t translate these for a reason.

She felt his hips begin to twitch, losing control of his rhythm as he continued pounding into her tight cunt, completely uninhibited. The familiar warmth starting in her abdomen spread throughout her body like wildfire, arching her back and toes as the familiar sensation orgasm nearing for the couple.

“Come for me, Doctor,” she whispered in his ear.

“Oh, _fuck,”_ he groaned _,_ her words enough to send them over the edge, both crying out into the empty night. His pace slow down, leisurely drawing out Clara’s orgasm with a few more thrusts.

He didn’t pull out right away, opting to lie on top of her but still mindful enough as to crush her with his weight. He may be skinny, but she was skinnier and tinier too. He shifted his body a bit only to see her smiling broadly up at him.

‘ _I guess this is what humans call the after-sex glow,’_ the Doctor thought, a bit smug. It’s not that he hasn’t had sex with them before, he just didn’t care enough about his partners to notice. But seeing Clara smile like that, her hair fanned out like a halo and her skin glistening with sweat and his saliva; she was absolutely stunning.

He gave her one last deep kiss, before pulling himself out with a loud moan. He rolled over, pulling Clara into his arms. He knows he should get dressed, in case campus security are on control but he can’t bring himself to move from this blissful feeling.

“I love you, Clara. I really do,” the Doctor confessed with sincerity, his cobalt eyes ablaze with emotion, namely love and passion for the brunette.

She smiled at him, pulling herself up to reach his face and kissed him deeply, replying, “And I love you, Doctor. So much.”

-

With reluctance, the couple cleaned themselves up and got dressed. But not before sharing a few more kisses. Clara and the Doctor walked back to the courtyard to his TARDIS in silence, not willing to acknowledge what’s coming next.

Standing in front of his police box, Clara threw her arms around his waist. “This is not goodbye, you hear me? Just because I’m gonna die doesn’t mean I won’t see you again.”

“Oh, Clara,” the Doctor said, almost mournfully. “It’ll be quite some time before Time Lords die, remember?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Doctor. I’m _dead,”_ she retorted, a smile forming much to her dismay. “Who knows, I may surprise you and bump into you one day. Maybe when you have a new face.”

“Oho, will you recognize me then?”

She grinned and took his hand in hers. “I’d know you anywhere. Whether you’d be a president wife-stealer or a man with big ears to fezzes to my grumpy magician, I’ll always know.” 

He couldn’t help it. With ease, he lifted her up and urgently pressed his lips against her own, knowing he doesn’t have much time left with her. “I love you.”

She reached up and caressed his face lovingly. “I love you too, old man. And before I go, I have two more requests to ask of you.”

His thick, grey eyebrows rose up in question. “Two?”

She nodded. “Two more.”

He playfully huffed. “Well, let’s hear it then. Go on.”

Clara raised her pointer finger. “One; when I’m gone, do _not_ mope around about me. You already did that for about four point five billion years. No more. You need to be a Doctor that everyone needs. And every Doctor needs a companion.”

“Who do you recommend?” he asked, his voice croaking and eyes watering. But despite that, he still kept smiling even if his lips kept quivering.

“Bill seems good for you. She can keep you grounded and doesn’t take your nonsense. And I know you like her. So, go on amazing adventures with her. Promise me that, Doctor. Promise me that you take her.”

Even if she tried to smile, she still ended up crying, her voice croaking but she still kept trying to put on a brave front.

_‘This is not goodbye, this not goodbye.’_

“I promise, Clara,” replied the Doctor whose eyes were red with unshed tears. And he planned to keep them that why. He won’t cry. Not in front of her. He wants her last memory of him smiling.

“My last request, Doctor, is live your life to the fullest. You’re over two thousand years old! Stop crying about the past, old man! So please, when I’m gone, don’t look back and think about the what-ifs. Go enjoy your life and go on many crazy adventures. I want to hear about them one day.”

He choked, overwhelmed by his emotions. “Clara, I –”

She silenced him with a kiss on his lips. “Please. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it in my memory. Live your life for me.”

“Oh, Clara, my impossible girl. I already am.”

“Huh?”

“Did you ever stop to think and ask yourself _why_ I became a Professor specifically for English Literature? It was because of you. I continued teaching those pudding brains of yours because it was your passion. I did it in honour of you.”

“Oh, Doctor!” Clara cried, hugging his midsection tightly. But he didn’t care. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more, Clara.”

For a few minutes, the couple stood in each other’s embrace, mourning for her death and the upcoming future. But they know it’s going to be okay. The Doctor will have someone to watch out for him and Clara will be reunited with her mother and Danny. They’ll both find happiness even if it’s not with each other.

With great difficulty, Clara extracted herself from his arms. “I have to go now, Doctor.”

“…I understand.”

“Hey, smile for me, will ya?” Clara asked with a grin as she started walking away, backwards. “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll remember it.”

He tossed her a lopsided grin as he started to wave goodbye at her. Before she exited the gates, she turned around to face him one last time and cupped her mouth.

“Doctor! Run you clever boy, and remember, I love you!”

With that, she vanished from his sight, most likely never to be seen again. She was truly gone this time. It was only then did he allow his tears to flow free as collapsed against his police box.

His chest constricted painfully, having just experience the lost and death of a love one. But he promised Clara that he will no longer mourn for her. He has to face life head on now.

Almost literally.

“DOCTOR WHAT!” a voice called out. He quickly wiped his face before turning to look at the intruder. Bill ran towards him, waving her arm enthusiastically. Her usual curly mop of hair was neatly tied up in a bun.

“Doctor What, you’re still here!” she exclaimed, slightly out of breath from sprinting towards him.

“You too, Bill,” he pointed out.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I was helping the chefs prep meals for tomorrow’s lunch since a few cooks are gone!” she stated proudly.

“You must be happy,” he smiled sadly at her, but she didn’t notice it.

“I like helping people. It brings out a good feeling. Speaking of helping people,” Bill craned her neck around the Doctor, seeing if it was just him out here. “Where’s Miss Blackpool?”

“Miss Blackpool?” the Doctor parroted, slightly amused at her nickname for Clara.

“Yeah, kinda short, chubby face but seemingly nice person. Your girlfriend?”

He turned away, a smirk now playing on his lips. “You won’t believe if I tell you.”

She grabbed his arm. “I was taught to always take things with an open mind.”

He sighed exaggeratedly. “She… was a ghost.”

She released his grip as she yanked her arm back to her side. “…Now, I don’t believe you.”

“I told you. Don’t listen to me.”

“Wait, you for real? B-But she carried stuff! People _saw_ her! I _saw_ her. She _spoke_ in a really bad American accent! _I_ served her _chips_!” Bill exclaimed in horror. “ _Bloody chips!”_

“I can take you to her grave. Meet her properly,” he teased.

“Professor, no!” Bill yelled, her face paling. “Just what kind of ghost is she?”

“If you come with me, I’ll show you more than just ghosts.”

She raised her arms to make an ‘x’ sign. “I want nuthin’ to do with demons and devils.”

The Doctor tried his best not rub his head in frustration. Here he is, trying to make the woman his companion but she’s wearing his patience thin. But then again, maybe the reason why he liked was because she could always constantly test him no matter what situation.

“That’s not what I mean, Bill,” He patted the police box. “This here is a time traveling machine. Takes you anywhere in space in time. Whenever and wherever.”

“So, like, this box here,” she pointed to the TARDIS, “can time travel? To anywhere you want.”

“Yes.”

Bill’s brown eyes lit up as she grinned at him, “So you mean, you can go the roarin’ twenties or even the Victorian era?”

He pushed the door open with a loud creak as he extended a hand towards her. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?”  

Needless to say, Bill was onboard with idea, grabbing his hand and jumping inside the TARDIS. The Doctor could only describe her as eccentric, barely fearing any monsters; just mostly disgusted. She compared everything to food and he wondered if her stomach was a black hole as she consumed mostly everything she was offered.

‘ _Clara, looks like I’ll have plenty of stories after all.’_

They each will have stories of their own when they are back together once more. The Doctor and the Impossible Girl.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m amazed you read this to the end. I’ll probably be asleep by the time you read this, so leave a kudos or comment on what you think? Please?


End file.
